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Victoria Williams' distinctive warble, incisive lyrics and Cajun-seasoned country rock have made her a cult favorite. Her songs, which often celebrate life's simplest pleasures -- the shade of tree on a hot day, a comfortable old pair of shoes, a shimmering moon -- resonate on a universal, root level. They pass through years of emotional armor and calloused psyche like a cool breeze through a screen window and invite something inside us all, maybe something long forgotten, to come out to play. But don't mistake this exuberance for naiveté. Williams is a music industry veteran who has faced her share of challenges (most significantly her ongoing battle with MS) and emerged with the wisdom of perspective. Along with her husband, former Jayhawks frontman Mark Olson, the Louisiana-born Williams now lives and records in the California desert. Her fifth studio album, Water to Drink, was released by Atlantic Records this month.
What's day to day life like out in the desert?
Our day to day schedule varies by season. In the summertime the days do get brutally warm, so I tend to stay up at night, when it's cool. I'll sleep in the day. I like to paint and draw. And I like to build little things out of things I find in the desert. You find a lot of history in the desert. Lots of stories. You find bits of people's lives -- their old dreams are out there, rusting. I'll find things, put things together. I'm kind of a "make do world" type of person.
Did that interest inspire "Junk" from Water to Drink?
No [laughs]. Actually, the inspiration for that song was... I thought I'd get a new guitar, because I always play my Strat. I thought I'd get this little electric guitar, and I brought it back to the house. I was tuning on it, and it wouldn't hold the tuning. I looked down the neck and it was bowed, and I thought, "They put this guitar together while the wood was green!" It was just like, junk! And then "Junk" came out.
You know, we have very good water where we live. We dug a well. We had a dowser out there -- this old man and his dog. He found where the water was going to be, and then we dug. He was right, but when we hit it at about 200 feet, it was not enough to really be of benefit. It was just a tiny brook. But we kept drilling because the driller could tell that there was water underneath. We got to 300 feet, and then we got to 400 feet, and then we got to 500 feet! I said, "Gosh. We've got to stop at 600 feet. But there's got to be water!" And he hit it at 560 feet. And it's a lot of water -- enough for all of the trees. We've planted a lot of trees.
Planting trees in a desert is an ambitious and optimistic thing to do.
Isn't it? Well, this has been Mark's thing. He's been studying how over in the Jerusalem area, they fertilized that desert. It's true. Things really do grow. It's excellent soil. But they just need water.
It sounds like you've been doing lots of very physical work out there. Do you find that to be a nice counterpoint to making music and art?
Just get out there and dig! That's good for you, I think. That's good for everybody, sometimes.
So Water to Drink was a natural title, given your recent well-digging experience?
No, I think the title came from the fact that my grandfather died this year, and his big thing was water and the planet. He was worried about the water -- the fresh drinking water. And I seem to have taken on his issue of the water. I don't know. Maybe I just called it Water to Drink 'cause I thought it sounds refreshing.
You're saying that living in the desert has nothing to do with water being on your mind?
It's just coincidental! [laughs] I hope to someday not always be in the desert. Well, I'm not always in the desert, because we tour. But I do like to be around big bodies of water. We're drawing from a big body of water, I guess, with our well. They've put us on a water map, actually. They came out with some kind of government map. I think nobody knew that there was water there. And they wanted to dig a 1,000-foot well right next to our property, right next to our well, for experimental purposes. But we asked them not to do it. What if all the water goes into their well? I don't know what it's like under there! [laughs]
This album takes a jazzier, cooler approach. Was that a conscious effort?
Yes. I started off this record making an entire jazzy record of [standards]. And then my manager says, "Atlantic doesn't want to put that on record! They want your originals!" So then I set to writing some originals, and I thought [I'd like to] use the same ensemble. Some of the songs have the same players [as the unreleased standards recordings]. So I recorded those and then thought, "Gosh, I feel like I want to make an account for this past year." And so I put some of the standards on Water To Drink. There's still a whole record's worth of standards [left over]. But "Until the Real Thing Comes Along," "Young At Heart" and "Water to Drink" are the standards on [this album]. I'd given Van Dyke [Parks] a tape of "Until the Real Thing Comes Along," and "Young At Heart." He wrote strings for both of those. And I thought, "Why waste these wonderful strings that he's written?" He wrote them for the little four-piece jazz ensemble we had.
And you included a little shout out to "On A Clear Day" in the middle of "Claude."
It seems these days that people are doing snippets -- taking snippets out of songs, and putting them in. So then I thought, "Well, I can do that! But rather than taking the snippet from somebody else doing it, I'll just sing it and stick it in there."
This is your version of sampling.
Exactly! I'm getting really modern here. That's a definite, blatant sample there.
Who is "Claude?"
Claude is just symbolic. Everybody thinks its just a song about a squirrel. And Claude was a squirrel. But he was just one of many types of allies that you see in day to day life. Claude was a friendly squirrel. He would come to the door and scratch at the door. One of his paws was all curled up. Something had happened to him. But he was very, very nice. And during this period, when I met Claude, he helped me get out of some depression. He was like a friend. Maybe a diversion, but really a friend. I think God puts friends everywhere. And I'd quit drinking, and gone over seas. And I was thinking about going out on another wild spree that might deteriorate my mind and all ... And then I met another "Claude," so to speak. And he's got Jesus in there. I love Jesus. And [the song is] just kind of like a dance with life! Having the gifts, and appreciating all the gifts that were set in this life around you to teach you and carry you through this life. And its sort of a little celebration too, that "La-dee-la-dee-La-ha!" It's fun.
"Lagniappe" isn't a word I've heard very often in conversation. Or ever, actually.
Never? Well, its very commonly used in Louisiana. "Oh, I have a little lagniappe fer ya!" And they bring you something. Its a little something extra. I guess that's the premise of the song. Because life is a little something extra. You just never know.
You've got a great outlook on life. Would you consider yourself to be something of a philosopher?
Gosh! I guess maybe I tap into something that everybody has. I like to do yoga and meditation. I like to pray. I feel like that is a gift that we all have. Because later on, all that's gonna be here after these bodies die off, is the spirit. So I feel as though I may as well get talkin' to God now, because later on, that's all that's gonna be! [laughs].
DOUG GOTTLIEB
(August 11, 2000)